


I Bare My Skin

by mollymauks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (a smidge), (fun shit going on here see), Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, UST, bc let's be real this is definite set-up for fjord/molly/jester which is my Ultimate Jam, but also flirting!! and fluff (sort of), it's not all doom and gloom i swear, mentions of self harm, reference to Molly's scars, room sharing, set in episode 2, smidge of jester/fjord if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 12:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: Molly’s POV, Missing scene from campaign 2, episode 2. Fjord politely offers to share his room with Molly, and Molly shamelessly takes up the offer. Flirting, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, and yet more flirting ensues as a result. (Mentions of self-harm/Molly’s scars)'Molly had never been able to react appropriately to kindness. He had not known enough of it to learn how.'





	I Bare My Skin

“Where exactly am I going to be sleeping, by the way?” Molly said glancing around, eyebrows raised at his companions. “I mean, I can sleep down here, but, uh, it might be nice...” his gaze quickly swept the tables.

Caleb and Nott were full in their room. Beau was wearing a look that said she’d sooner see him sleeping in a grave than her room. Jester was doodling something and barely listening. Fjord, however, was tall, imposing, and by all accounts terrifying, but there was a softness in the big man that had him focusing his attention on him.

“Molly, if you would like to share my room you can,” he said, as if on cue.

Well, perhaps he’d been a tad obvious, but he had a private bit of floor to sleep on now that was less likely to be stained with ale than the bar.

“Excellent,” he replied, winking at the half-orc across the table who blushed just a little, quickly hiding it in his mug.

The talk in the bar room of the Nestled Nook faded to embers along with the fire in the corner, the light in the room dying along with the noise.  

As one, the strange group got to their feet and shuffled towards the stairs in the corner, ready for bed.

“One more,” Fjord grunted over his shoulder to Molly as Jester scuttles off along the corridor of the second floor, prattling about the things she wants to draw before bed.

Molly catches the faint smile on Fjord’s face as he watched the other tiefling out of sight.

“Anything going on there?”Molly asked easily as they continue to climb to the third floor.

Fjord glances down at him, eyebrow raised, and Molly nods towards the lower floor and Jester. Fjord snorts and shakes his head, “Just friends,” he replied, turning the corner and passing temporarily from Molly’s sight.

He rounds the corner after him and presses, “Do you want there to be something going on there?”

There was a slightly longer beat of silence this time, and Fjord waited until they had left the stairs and stepped onto the landing. Then he said quietly, “I _just_ met you. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well I’m trying to change that,” Molly replies smoothly, “How will I ever know anything about you if I don’t ask?”

“Ask something else, then” Fjord replied, more brusquely than he’d yet heard from him, turning away and rummaging in his pockets for his room key.

 _You may as well just have said I’d be sleeping in your room alone if you had your way, friend_ , Molly thought with a soft smile. Travelling with the carnival had taught him to read people. His brand of fortune telling at the carnival was little more than lucky-guesswork and playing well off other people’s reactions to the things he said.

He didn’t press, however, as they stopped outside room 19. Fjord pushed the key into the lock and swept Molly into his room before him. Molly bowed, lips pulling into a smirk, and stepped inside. The room was barren, furnished with nothing more than the bare essentials, with a single bed pushed against the wall.

Molly inspected the floor, trying to decide which bit felt softest as Fjord stepped in behind him.

“You’re welcome to the bed, if you’d like it,” he said courteously.  

Molly snorted at that and turned to him, smirking, “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to give you my bed,” Fjord replied.

Damn. He was almost _too_ good, and no fun to tease.

Molly smiled before planting himself down on the floor, “This will do fine for me. Be thankful I’m too generous to take advantage of that. But, word to the wise, someone _will_ take advantage of that generosity some day.”

Without further ado, Molly stripped off his shirt. There was no privacy in a carnival, they were always changing backstage and trampling over one another as they did so. He had seen all sorts from his fellow performers, and there was nothing about his body that would shock any of them either.

“I, I can leave if you want a moment to change-“ Fjord began, just as Molly’s shirt the floor.

He laughed softly again, “Carnie,” he reminded Fjord, who nodded, as though this was just to be expected.

“I was planning on sleeping shirtless,” Molly informed Fjord conversationally. “But if it bothers you-“ he reached for his shirt again.

“No, no,” Fjord insisted, shaking his head, turning back towards the bed. “Sleep however you’re comfortable.”

“Well I usually sleep naked,” Molly said at once, just to see what effect this would produce.  

As expected, the big man blushed, and Molly smirked. He liked unsettling people, he liked pushing them out of their comfort zones and see how they reacted.  It was only then, when someone was uncertain, when they were put on the spot, that was when you truly saw who they were.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smile broadening, “It’s too cold for that tonight.”

Fjord choked.

Molly found some extra blankets at the top of the wardrobe while Fjord changed into looser clothes for sleeping. He didn’t miss the sharp orc eyes that followed him as he spread them out on the floor.

“You like what you see?”Molly demanded, eyebrow raised. He couldn’t help himself, truly, Fjord made a very large, very handsome target, and this was the most fun Molly had had all day.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Fjord said, voice going quiet in that way people’s voices always went quiet when they talked to him.

Molly straightened up and looked Fjord full in the face as he said softly, “Say it.”

“What?” Fjord said, too quickly, fooling neither of them.

“What you want to, but feel like you’re too polite to spit out. I’ve heard everything before.” That was certainly true.

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged, “About the...The-“ he nodded his head at Molly’s bare chest, at the scars that lay in criss-cross patterns covering almost every inch of him, but did not say the word.

 People seemed strangely afraid of it, as afraid as they were of addressing the scars at all. As though they thought that he, Molly, had somehow forgotten that they were there. As though they were invisible until someone spoke of them to him, then they burned into his flesh, called to attention.

He knew they were there. It was impossible to forget them. Every moment of every day he knew they were there. He had tried hiding them to begin with, tried hiding himself, too. He had worn baggy, dark clothes that covered every possible inch of skin they could. But he had quickly grown tired of living like that. Enough of himself was hidden as it was, against his will, that he had grudged hiding his body, too.

The scars were there. Burying them in layers of clothing and pretending they were not wasn’t going to change that. He had decided to own them, instead. That was the only choice he had in the matter, and he was damn well going to make it.

“The scars?” Molly supplied for Fjord who nodded, almost embarrassed, though he couldn’t have been more explicitly invited to ask about them.

“The kind of magic Caleb practices isn’t the only kind in this world,” he said, a slightly twisted smile tugging at his lips this time. “This,” he gestured at the scars, “Is another.”

“Blood magic?” Fjord said.

Molly mock-applauded, “Very good,” he said, smiling, eyes twinkling.

“Some might say that was cruel,” Fjord said, softly.

Molly looked up at him again, gaze perfectly steady, and said quietly, “The world is a cruel place. Sometimes you have to become a little cruel yourself if you wish to survive it.”

Fjord made no answer to that. Not that Molly gave him much of an option to. The words were barely out of his mouth before he had turned his back on the other man and busied himself with his blankets once more.

Fjord nudged one of the pillows from the bed at Molly, who stuffed it under his head with a muttered word of thanks. He listened to the half-orc move around for a few more minutes, then the creak of the wooden bed frame as he sank into it, snuffing out the candle with his next breath.

The room went dark, and the exhaustion of the day descended upon him like a sudden plague. His limbs felt leaden and, though he tried to resist for a moment, sleep pulled him into a deeper, blacker oblivion than that of the dim room around him.

He woke suddenly. Whether it was hours or minutes later he couldn’t tell. The room was still dark, the sun beyond not yet having risen, and for a moment that caused him to panic. The images and sounds that had vaulted him from sleep as his mind rejected their horrors and forced him awake continued to claw at his nerves.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to either be sick or to scream. Or both. Sweat beaded on his skin, the blankets sticking to his bare chest, and he tore them away at once with a shaking hand, then clutched at his head, as though trying to help it push back what he had seen.

And what _had_ he seen? He still didn’t know. The tangle of images and sounds were no clearer tonight than they had been the night before. Or the night before that. Or the night before that. He hadn’t slept a single night through since he had woken on a pallet on the floor of a carnival tent with Orna hovering over him looking concerned.

Each night had presented him with the same. You would have thought he might be able to remember it by now, might be able to piece it together. But even as he sat there, panting in the dark, cursing himself, both trying desperately to remember something tangible, something _real_ , and at the same time terrified to, he had nothing. _Nothing_.

He jumped violently at the soft brush of motion against his shoulder and spun, hissing softly on instinct, reaching for blades that were not on his back right now, bracing for the flash of pain that didn’t come.

“Sorry.”

The soft sound of Fjord’s voice reminded him where he was, and forced him, more than anything else, to get a grip on himself. He was not alone in this room. He had hoped that Fjord would remain ignorant of his nightly terrors, but apparently whatever gods there were had not seen fit to even grant him that.

A moment after he realised that, he realised that the thing that had brushed his shoulder had been a cup of water that Fjord was wordlessly holding out to him.

Unable to speak himself, he simply took it and sipped at it, turning away, hunching in on himself. For all his bravado, all his thoughts about baring his scars and his self for the world to see, and refusing to feel shame for them, these scars he would hide if he could, the scars that cut into not his skin, but his soul. The scars that so few had ever seen and, if he’d had his way, none would know of at all, save himself and the faceless demons he danced with in the darkness of the night.

Finally, after several long minutes of sitting with his back to the bed, he managed to grate out a curt, “Thank you,” to Fjord, without looking at him.

“Don’t mention it,” the other man responded. Molly could feel it as he hesitated, and he closed his eyes in a silent grimace, anticipating the next words, praying they wouldn’t come, but knowing they would. “Are you al-“ Fjord began.

“Fine,” Molly bit out in a clipped voice, a muscle going in his jaw, still not looking round.

Another heavy, oppressive beat of silence, that lay on the room like thunderclouds blanketing a sky, making it feel as though the world was pressing in, growing smaller with every second, squeezing the air from lungs as it did.

Then, something Molly wouldn’t have believed possible a second go, things got worse, as Fjord cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “If you’d like it, the bed is still available for you.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snarled, turning on him, his anger lashing out at this one person, this one person who dared to see his vulnerability, who dared to see his weakness, and who then dared to respond to it not with revulsion or contempt, but with kindness of all things.

Molly had never been able to react appropriately to kindness. He had not known enough of it to learn how.

There was another silence, which Fjord broke by saying composedly, “I don’t remembering offering you pity. Just my bed.”

Molly opened his mouth to snap something back, then he caught a glimpse of Fjord’s face. It was dark, yet he caught the twinkle in his eye quite clearly, the almost... _Flirtatious_ smile curving his lips. He cocked his head, finding that this time he was the one off-balance and out of his comfort zone, that the other man had actually managed to unsettle _him_. There weren’t many who could claim that.

“Fjord,” he murmured, his voice dropping naturally into the smooth, velvet tones he used with those he wished to seduce, wished to consume and bend utterly to his will, “If you’re going to invite me into your bed, at least buy me a drink first.”

Fjord smiled, “Quite sure I did earlier,” he said, his own voice dropping a little now.

It seemed that the darkness gave him courage, that not being able to look into Molly’s fierce red eyes as plainly as they could be the light of the sun let him say the things he would have blushed to so much as think of before. He liked it.

“Yes,” Molly purred smoothly, his tail lashing back and forth a little, betraying his eagerness, “So you did. I quite forgot.” There was a beat of silence, in which they both seemed to consider what hung in the air before them, both of them still, held taut by the tension of the room.

Molly broke it, rising fluidly to his feet and padding across the room towards Fjord’s silhouette. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed, his body angled towards Molly, and it wasn’t difficult to slide smoothly down into his lap, straddling him.

His skin was cool to the touch beneath Molly’s investigating fingers. Of course, most people felt cool to a tiefling. There was something electrifying in the contrast, in the silken feeling of him gliding beneath his fingertips, his progress occasionally interrupted by an old scar.

Molly settled himself comfortably in his lap, and felt one of Fjord’s large hands slide gently around his waist, anchoring him in place. One of his hands traced its way along the half-orc’s spine before sliding into his hair. The other slid up his chest, from his navel, to the point where his loose shirt opened up and bared his chest, all the way up until it slid under his chin, tilting his face up.

“I did warn you,” Molly whispered softly, “That someone, someday would take advantage of that generous spirit of yours.”

“You did,” Fjord agreed, his voice just a little more breathless than it had been a moment before, and Molly preened just slightly at the effect he’d already had on him.

“Then this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you,” he breathed.

Then he kissed him. It was slow, and deep, and indulgent, and what surprised him that Fjord was just as ready, just as eager for it as he was. From his blushing earlier, he had wondered if the other man might be a little timid if he ever managed to pin him down. Not that he had wondered much. Well, not that he had wondered _too_ much.

When Molly paused, drawing away slightly, content to let it end there, Fjord surprised him by continuing it. He slid his own hand into Molly’s hair and pulled him in once more, tongue pressing easily into his mouth with a confidence that said he knew what he was doing. And he did.

Molly was not precisely inexperienced when it came to intimacy with other people. Fjord was making it quite clear that he wasn’t either, he just didn’t boast about it quite as much.

“You know, we are sleeping above a bar right now,” Molly murmured, when they drew back to pause for breath, “You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he shot back, eyes dancing, hunger evident in them, “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Molly said, easing gently out of Fjord’s lap, “Is that you’ll likely still be aware of it tomorrow.”

“I likely will,” Fjord agreed, after a faint pause and a frown of confusion.  

“Good,” Molly purred in reply as he moved back towards his blankets, “So buy me another drink tomorrow, one I promise faithfully not to forget, and invite me into your bed like a gentleman.”

It would be easy, so easy, to give in to what they both wanted right now. So easy to kiss Fjord again, to push him back down onto the bed and strip the clothes from him. But perhaps that was the problem. It was almost _too_ easy, and Molly wasn’t sure he wanted it to be like this, wasn’t sure he wanted it to stem from a stirring of compassion and, whatever Fjord had said to the contrary, pity on his part.

It would be bliss to lose himself in the thick, corded muscle of Fjord’s arms, the surprising sweetness of his kiss, the inviting deftness of his broad, calloused fingers but...But no. He didn’t want it to be like this. It had been like this before. Fast, and impulsive, and hot and...Regretted in the morning. When the sunlight came and the awkwardness returned and...And he didn’t want that with Fjord. He wanted...He didn’t truly know what. Just. Not like this.

“In the meantime,” he said firmly, as he settled himself down on the floor of Fjord’s bedroom once more, “I assure you I’ve slept far worse places than this floor.”

“I’ll just bet you have,” Fjord muttered as he turned over, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

For the first time in a long time, Molly lay down, shut his eyes, and faced sleep with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My first attempt at fic for this pairing/this fandom in general, so feedback on that is especially appreciated. But feedback in general, if you have a minute to spare, would be an absolute blessing!


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